Stockholm Syndrome
by Kiasohma
Summary: When people say that "it's not the getting IN part that's the problem, but the getting OUT," they KNOW what the hell they are talking about, Ichigo can't deny that, not by a long shot. GrimmIchi. R


_**Stockholm syndrome**_

_**June 24**__**th**__**, 2009**_

It would have been better if not for the call.

After two years of spending his life through a complete fake trail, Ichigo ought to have been pleased once he knew that his job was done with, and that he would be able to go back and take some sort of vacation off for all the hard work he did.

He had been working undercover in the infamous gang, Hueco Mundo, for _two_ utterly, long years, facing the risk of getting discovered everyday that he was actually a cop and not the 18 year-old runaway, teenage drug addict like everybody thought he was. That he was in all actuality an agent working for the Special Force of Soul Society to sneak in and retrieve whatever information needed for them to finally put an end to the dealers, acquiring the evidences to capture, once and for all, the major figures behind all of the illegal businesses.

Two years ago, Ichigo had been found by a member of Hueco Mundo caught in a one-sided fight with some other inferiors of the gang, and as luck had it, the man had found the orange-haired teen interesting enough to keep him around, and subsequently, Ichigo had became a rather trusted acquaintance of the group in no less than a few months.

It was to be according to the plan, of course, which was to infiltrate and dissect from the inside. However, as people always said, it wasn't the getting _in_ part that was the problem, but the getting _out_.

"Renji, I told you, I just need more time."

It _really _would have been better if it wasn't for the call.

There was a sizzling sound from the phone and then a tsk came through. "C'mon Ichigo, you are _so_ DONE. What the hell do you need more time for? We got all the stuff we need, and these guys are as good as _dead_," Abarai Renji exclaimed in an exasperated tone. There was a pause. "In a figurative sense I mean, not quite _literally_."

Ichigo held back a sigh as the caller continued his rambling.

"Renji, I'm not finished," the orange-haired teen said, pinching his nose in a tiresome manner. His head was hurting and his lips were dry, as Ichigo wet them out of habit more than anything before he continued to wait, his friend silent, though the confusion was there.

"What? But you said—."

"That was _before_, Ren. Before—." Ichigo cut himself off from the sound of metal clanking a few, good distances behind him. Someone was coming.

"I gotta go," Ichigo muttered under his breath. Then he added a few words more when he noticed he had some more time until anybody discovered him. "Just stand down, do you hear me? You can't wrap this up yet."

Renji was about to say more, but felt it inappropriate if Ichigo were so distracted on the other line. He couldn't risk getting his friend in danger just because of his stubbornness.

"Fine. But you better call ASAP, cus it's not me who's controlling the team. Taichou isn't going to be happy not getting a reason for this."

"I see, now get a move on, those boxes aren't going to deliver themselves, you know!"

The question was there on the tip of his tongue; Renji was about to ask what the hell Ichigo was saying, but as soon as he sensed the abnormality in his friend's tone of voice and speech pattern, he let the inquiry died down, knowing that Ichigo was no longer alone.

Playing along, Renji announced a quick "Yes, sir!" and snapped the cover of his phone shut, automatically ending the call with it, as he silently added "Good luck, Ichi," to his colleague.

Ichigo heard the sharp _beep-beep_ sound from the other line and inwardly let out a sigh of relief, continuing the call for a minute with a demanding "And don't be late! Angry clients equals angry ME!" before pressing the red button on his cell and putting the device back into his back pocket in time to see a smirking blue-haired man heading towards his way.

"Ichi."

"Grimmjow." Ichigo nodded his head in acknowledgement and gave a quick smile of his own, before reverting back to his old scowling self. "What are you doing here?"

"Eh, felt like taking a quick walk," Grimmjow replied, his fingers raised up to gesture legs movements. He dropped his hand and shrugged. "You know, a quick wander…_away_ from Ulquiorra."

Feeling his lips being tugged up in amusement, Ichigo let out a laugh at the comment. "What did you do this time!?"

"NOTHING!! I was minding my own business and then that emo-bastard just came ambling down the corridor and kicked my door open, telling me to get my ass up and _work_."

"Shouldn't you be?"

"I was on _break_!"

Ichigo merely scoffed at that and started walking back out of the room, passing Grimmjow in the process, as the latter shouted at him for the indifference towards his complaints.

"Don't fucking give me the cold shoulder—and wipe that smirk off your face!" Grimmjow ran a few feet to catch up with the teen, steadying his pace once he was walking beside him with a disgruntle mood. "You're not gonna be getting _any_ today if you keep acting like that."

"Wh—when have I been getting _any_ from you!? OH, and if you're counting that incident, it was accident, ACCIDENT, do you hear me?" Ichigo bristled and swiped back his arm in irritation, hoping to hit the infuriating man for the remark, though he wasn't quite giving any seriousness into it.

Grimmjow dodged the fist easily, shutting his eyes and gave Ichigo a slight nudge in the shoulder. "Oh? Ok, it you want to call it that, let's leave it at that. After all…" He leaned in and whispered into the teen's ear. "…_A rose by any other name would smell as sweet_…"

"Effing stop quoting Shakespeare. You're using it wrong!"

Ichigo elbowed back at the taller man, eliciting a growl as the blow connected this time, and he saw a glare directed at him. He snorted at it and turned back to the front, covering his fading, red cheeks that were brought on by the memory Grimmjow had deemed it necessary to bring up with irritation.

A few months ago, while Ichigo had tried to escape the heat by burrowing himself in the unoccupied kitchen, Ulquiorra had noticed his absence from the group—which wasn't hard, really, due to his obnoxious orange hair—and apparently had sent Grimmjow to retrieve him back.

Ichigo was searching around in the fridge when he felt a light tap on his shoulder, and the lack of sleep those days caused by the stress from his secrecy of being an undercover agent, that and the call he received some weeks back about Byakuya-taichou coming back from his leave—forced upon by his sister after seeing the monstrous pace at which he was working—to join in with the case, had made Ichigo a bit jumpy at many things, including Grimmjow's small action.

With a shout, Ichigo had kicked back out of reflex and Grimmjow had instinctively grabbed a hold of his feet in alarm in attempt to parry the blow coming his way. It had caused Ichigo to nearly tip forward if not for his hand on the refrigerator door.

It would have been all together well had the orange-haired teen not force himself back in order to regain his balance, and crashed into the figure behind him. They had landed in a very uncompromising position, and the event ended with a smash of lips and plain awkwardness, especially when Stark had came in to fetch them at the last minute, as soundlessly as ever, and left with a cough after seeing the scene.

Grimmjow had not failed to remind Ichigo of that embarrassing event even to this day.

"Hey, c'mon~," Grimmjow drawled, and lifted his brow in suggestion. "I'm not complainin'."

"I am."

Grimmjow put on a fake pout at the frown from Ichigo. "You shouldn't be."

"And why's that, after getting your slobbering mouth all over my own, it's disgusting."  
Grimmjow smirked at that. "You think?" He pointed at Ichigo's cheeks and his lips tugged back even higher, a glint forming behind his cerulean eyes. "You liked it." He paused. "You _like_ me."

Ichigo practically gasped at the wild accusation, slapping the teal-haired man's finger away in what closely resembled revulsion. "I do _not_!"

"Yeah whatever, Ichi. This is my stop." Grimmjow stopped in his steps and leaned back against the gates Ichigo hadn't notice until now. They had covered quite a distance from the warehouse, and Ichigo realized that they had reached Grimmjow's apartment complex.

"Disappointed?" Grimmjow asked with a quirk of an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were enjoying my company so much that you didn't even realize we reached my flat."

"Hardly." Ichigo scoffed. "Your apartment's just damn close to the factory. Better watch out. I might sick the cops on you just for being so damn annoying."

Grimmjow let out a bark of laughter, reaching out to ruffle the orange hair with amusement. "Yeah, well. Let's see that happening with you being in love with me and all."

Before Ichigo could make an appropriate comeback, Grimmjow casually gave him a pseudo-salute and headed off into the building without another backward glance. "See ya, strawberry."

"That's not my—!" Ichigo cut himself off, and instead let out a long sigh, bored and tired of reminding the blue-haired menace about the nickname for over the hundredth time. "…See ya…" Ichigo hesitantly waved back shortly and paused in his actions, before letting out another sigh when the reality came rushing back to him all too quickly. "…Grimm."

What was _that_?

That feeling he was getting in the pit of his stomach like some sort of foreboding storm was coming, and also that kind of strange blank that filled his mind whenever Grimmjow said those stupid claims. Him? In love?

Ichigo scoffed. How foolish.

…

He wasn't in love, was he? It really wasn't like that at all.

Was it?

No, it wasn't, it _couldn't_. Ichigo scowled at the thought.

But that was exactly the problem. He was enjoying this far more than he was supposed to. _In love_, getting a bit _too involved_,_ liking it_; call them whatever, but the fact still was _attached_; enough to be straying off his real path, and that scared him fairly even without the fear of being accused by the police for fraternization, or Hueco Mundo finding out that he wasn't exactly as "loyal" as he was to be.

What sort of predicament had he got himself into?

Ichigo thought back about his conversation with Renji before, about what he was going to say if Grimmjow hadn't been there to interfere. He had said that he needed more time, but for what?

It was true that the evidences were practically enough to shut down everything for good, so it came as a bit of a shock to Ichigo when he found that he wanted to _stay_.

If Grimmjow hadn't interrupted them, what would he had tell his friend?

_That was before, Renji. Before—_

The teen swallowed quietly.

"Before I knew that I fell for that guy…"

Ichigo scratched his head in frustration, tsking at himself when he realized he was about to lie to a fellow officer—one of his best buddies no less—because the fact was that he was definitely not going to be saying _that_ to him. How did it get to this?

Ichigo didn't want to know what would happen once his people knew that he was siding with the enemy—without doubt, _they_ would call it that.

However, the orange-haired teen realized that, though he would be drowned in sadness if his team knew what he was doing, he would not be able to take it if Grimmjow were to find out that Ichigo was an undercover.

The teen bit his lips at the thought.

He realized that he'd die, whether it was by Grimmjow's hand or from heartache.

He didn't know which one was worse.

XOXOXOXOXOXOX

_**July 5**__**th**__**, 2009**_

NEWS HEADLINES

HUECO MUNDO DRUG CARTELS KILLED OFF IN COURT

Over 50 members arrested and suspected of being involved in Hueco Mundo co., as Aizen Sosuke and Ichimaru Gin are still yet to be found.

It wasn't pleasing.

Ichigo wondered briefly, as he tugged at his orange locks to keep himself from falling asleep over the paper works on his desk, if he had ever felt this sort of strong, dragging feeling before in his life.

Toiling away at the sheets, the orange-haired teen passed a hand over his face for the hundredth time that day, continuing to browse through the listed names of prime suspects of the Hueco Mundo case.

Renji had asked him before what he was trying to look for, and Ichigo had merely answered with a shrug and requested a cup of coffee from him, to which the red-haired male had grumbled about Ichigo needing to take a vacation before turning into Byakuya-taichou, who, God knows, also needed another leave of absence before finally frying out all the brain cells he had with one quick stroke.

But Ichigo knew he wasn't looking for a name, which was why the ordeal was putting bags under his eyes and making them about to go blind from the load of black and white, and ink on papers.

He was trying and hoping to _not _find a name, and that was it. Ichigo had looked through the court papers and written reports from other officers, the whole day, going through the papers in fear of the eccentric name he would find on them with the statement next to it saying, "Arrested," "Served XX amount of time in prison", or all those sort of shit he didn't want to see.

It took him the _whole _day to finish with the files he had placed priority on and by the time he got to the last one it was nightfall. So once Ichigo didn't see any word even closely resembled the G and the J and all the letters in between that screamed to him the identity of that person, he found himself letting out a long breath of relief, but also felt a ball of air caught up in his throat as well for the very same fact.

"Grimmjow Jaegarjaques." Ichigo let the name slipped pass his lips quietly, enjoying the feel of it and the way it'd been said, missing it. "Where are you?"

His eyes slowly closed and Ichigo felt himself slump against the cold desk, a few pieces of papers still scattered across it as he let his cheek rest against the hard surface, the lamplight shining dimly down on his orange hair, sparking the warmth the teen needed to finally doze off into a long and necessary sleep.

The quiet footsteps approaching went unheard and were only acknowledged briefly far off in a dream.

XOXOXOXOXOXOX

_**July 6**__**th**__** 2009**_

_**6:00 AM **_

The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't in his room.

Ichigo had woken up with a smile on his face, relishing in the feeling of the white, cotton sheet that laid around him in a mess, the morning air strangely comforting like never before.

His eyes were still closed when Ichigo realized that he had fallen asleep on his desk at work, so it came as a bit of a wonder to him as to why or how he was on a bed. Ichigo initially thought that there was a chance that Renji had taken him to his apartment to crash there after seeing his godforsaken state, but the awful stink in the red-head's room should have forced him awake immediately when Ichigo was reaching consciousness.

Not long after his recognition of the surrounding and the smell of the sheets came wafting into his nose, the feeling of dread and alarm slowly crept up his spine. Ichigo realized that a part of that feeling had been divided into physical and emotional. Emotionally, yes, he was feeling quite anxious. Physically, there were arms around him that Ichigo knew weren't his own.

So when the orange-haired teen noticed another body set right behind his back, the first thing that came to mind was to elbow right into it before doing anything else.

"Yeah, because that's going to _work_ after you'd done it like a million times already…" came a voice the same time his blow was stopped with a hand, flinging Ichigo's limb away to the other side of the teen's body.

Ichigo sat up immediately after and whipped around so fast he felt like his neck had sprained, but that would have been preferred any other day compared to facing that all-too-familiar, bored expression resting on that _mug_ belonging to the one and only…

"Grimmjow!"

The blue-haired man smiled. "Hey, berry."

It was fast to go as it came. Grimmjow wiped the smile off his face so suddenly and replaced it with a scowl as he reached up a hand and pulled Ichigo's collar down roughly so that their faces were at the same level, his cerulean orbs glaring deep into a shock brown ones.

"You have a lot of guts keeping to your promise, Ichi…though in this case, I think it's more than because I was being _annoying_, isn't it?"

Ichigo opened his mouth but nothing came out, lacking any words to express his thoughts right then, too confused, bewildered, _aghast_…

…relieved.

"You're alright," Ichigo muttered, and when he was met with a raised eye-brow, Ichigo only shook his head in disbelief. "I mean, you're _alright_! Safe! You're not caught…"

"Unfortunately for you, _no_."

Ichigo's eyes flew to the ceiling and he looked around the room quickly. "This—Where are we? Is this your apartment!? But that means you're so close to the warehouse—!"

Grimmjow scoffed at the question. "Yeah, and that's why it's the safest place to be. Never heard of that shit 'most dangerous place is the safest' blah blah?"

At this point Ichigo had calmed down to an extent to evaluate his situation. He looked down at his crumbled shirt and frowned, slapping Grimmjow's hand away sharply before checking his collar, scooting a small distance back to the edge of the bed, as Grimmjow merely stared.

"So what, you're looking for revenge now? Kidnapped me to kill me and all those vengeful crap?" Ichigo returned a suspicious glare, to which Grimmjow frowned at in disapproval.

"Hell. _Yeah_."

Without missing a beat, Grimmjow had reached over and slammed Ichigo down onto the bed in one move, eliciting a sharp gasp from the orange-haired teen. He leaned in close and bared his teeth in anger.

"You think it's all nice and well to just stroll in, fuck up our little drug "workshop," and just walk out, hands-free, without a care in the world? _Please_. You fucked up my life real good, Ichi," Grimmjow growled, his holds on Ichigo's neck and arm tightening with each word. He let out a scoff. "You're dead wrong, _brat_. Let me tell ya what, the thing is, _Kurosaki_, if that's even your real name, now that I have you here at my mercy, don't even_ think_ that you're gonna have a chance of getting away."

"I was doing my JOB, Grimmjow!" Ichigo barked, trying to force Grimmjow's hands back to no avail. He glowered up at him. "You understand that, what it means to be making a living, especially at the cost of others. Oh, you _understand_ that very _well_, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Grimmjow practically spat at the teen's audacity to talk back at him with such tone. The teal-haired man leaned in, his eyes glowing, whether from the light shining from the window of Grimmjow's room or something more dangerous in the man's eyes, Ichigo didn't know. The teen doubt it was the former.

"As a matter of fact," Grimmjow muttered, his tone laced with something Ichigo couldn't place, but he felt the shiver going up his backbone regardless from the mere sound of it. "I know _very well_ on getting what you want from other's expenses."

The last thing Ichigo saw was a blur of blue and white, as Grimmjow closed whatever distance left between them and clashed their lips together with such force their teeth practically smashed, the shock reverberating throughout Ichigo's entire body, forcing him to tense up by the sudden action, eyes widened, fists clenched.

It had happened before, except that time it was accidental, and even then, when Ichigo had been the one who tripped and fell, lips locking with Grimmjow's own in that kitchen many months ago, he had seen red, his cheeks coloring up out of embarrassment.

At that time, it was different. There was no forcefulness, no strength or vigor behind it except plain mortification and the feeling of awkward unease settling in the pit of their stomach. It was simple, and the two just froze there, unmoving, doing nothing but having their brain closed up and restarted again before Stark had stumbled in on them and snapped them out of their stupor.

There was no strength behind the kiss like how Grimmjow was using now, no feeling of passion that they were feeling now. It was the exact opposite. The lack of movements then compared to how Ichigo now swung his arm around Grimmjow's neck and started to reciprocate. The cogent thought process that screamed "Oh, God, what am I supposed to do?" back then, two months ago, in contrast to how Grimmjow was currently pushing Ichigo's face upward to drag his lips down to the nape of his neck, his shoulder.

It was utterly euphoric.

Then _and_ now.

_But now_, Ichigo thought, his mouth opened, and his breath coming out in a sporadic manner as Grimmjow's tickled his ear. _I'll choose now any day._

"I _so_ fuckin' hate you, Kurosaki."

Ichigo would have missed the whisper if not for Grimmjow's lips by his ear, and he sneered at the comment. "Same," he returned.

"That's not true," Grimmjow said. Ichigo could feel the smirk rather than actually seeing it from his peripheral view, which was blocked by the locks of messy blue hair. "You like me, remember?"

"Oh, please," Ichigo scoffed. He tried to turn his face to the side to see Grimmjow and was met with the smirk that he knew was already there and would always be there. Ichigo returned the expression with a frown. "And incidentally, Grimmjow, if you already had forgotten, we were at each other's throat only a moment ago."

Grimmjow raised a curious eyebrow. "That. Oh, that? Yeah, well." He blinked and shrugged at the orange-haired teen in a casual manner that left Ichigo a bit perplexed and doubtful. "I kinda figure that being a vindictive, vengeful bastard's just not quite my thing. 'Ruins my groove."

"You don't HAVE a _groove_, you narcissistic bastard." Ichigo scowled at the pompousness, but couldn't help but laugh, although he covered it up with an irritated scoff. "And what's with that, you're not _mad_ at me? What the hell!?"

"Do you want me to be?" Grimmjow inquired, but it was rhetorical, as he continued right off. "And I _was_, at first. I was ANGRY as HELL. Who wouldn't be!? Because, _obviously_, it's just _every_ day that you find out that someone you sorta trust runs off and becomes an enemy all of a sudden, then _he_ made _you_ go broke and become a _hobo_ with no _job_. Sure, that's something to get over with a smile."

Sarcasm. It was great. Grimmjow smirked, as Ichigo rolled his eyes in irritation.

"But you know, after I mulled it over with some time alone—and beer, _lots_ and lots of beer, _ridiculous_ amount of alcohol, mind you—I kinda noticed that no SWAT team is storming down my door, so I figure no one gave me away. More importantly, _you _didn't give me away." Grimmjow grinned with fake innocence. "Now, I _wonder_ why that is?"

"You just weren't worth mentioning,'s all." Ichigo muttered quite rudely, but Grimmjow didn't mind, especially when he saw the blush still there on the Berry's face.

"Sure, sure,_ Kurosaki Ichigo_."

Ichigo tsked at Grimmjow. "And you know, that's my real name, so stop with the sarcastic tone already."

At that Grimmjow blinked in a bit of a surprise. "Seriously? Wow…thought you undercover agent were supposed to be, you know, _smarter _than that…"

"Shut up! It's not my fault, seeing as _you're_ that first one I met—." Ichigo cut himself off quickly and coughed, awkward, when Grimmjow's expression contorted into a sort of shock at the sudden information.

"What?"

"Nothing, I meant—."

"Oh, that's right. I saved your ass that night, but…" Grimmjow pondered on the memory. It had been two years ago since he first met the orange-haired teen. Grimmjow had been out drinking and was wandering around the street near the corners when something orange blurred into his view. Ichigo was in the middle of a fight when Grimmjow found the situation interesting and decided to stick around; he ended up dragging the kid into Hueco Mundo after all the crap's been settled.

A smile slowly made its way onto Grimmjow's lips.

"_Interesting_. So you were infatuated with me back then enough to blurt out your real name?" Grimmjow prodded. "Love at first sight, huh? I like it."

"Fuck you."

"Would you?"

Ichigo could merely gape at him, faltering in his thought, as his face darkened a deep shade of beet red. He settled for glaring hard at the asshole.

"In any case, now that we're on the same wave length that you're _not_ going to kill me…" Ichigo waited for any sign of contradiction from Grimmjow, before seeing only an amused expression on his face, and decided to continue. "One question."

"Shoot."

"Why the hell were you screaming at me and all that shit _before_?!?"

Grimmjow grinned. "I just like being the bad guy."

Having nothing to say to that ridiculous and childish comment, Ichigo scowled and felt like slamming his head to the wall. "I really should have sick the police on you."

"And like last time, my answer still stands: You're. Not. Gonna."

"Don't _tempt_ me." Ichigo warned.

Grimmjow merely sat there, unfazed. "You love me too much."

"There are so many other explanations for me turning almost traitorous for you, but _that _is not one of the reasons."

It was like Grimmjow never heard the statement. "You love me."

"Over-attachment due to long period of exposure to the targets."

"Or you like me."

"Sympathy towards the targeted individuals."

"_Or_ you _love_ me."

"Stockholm Syndrome."

Grimmjow twiddled his fingers in boredom. "Infatuation."

"Or I like you."

"Or I like you."

A pause, as Ichigo smiled at Grimmjow's knitted eyebrows. "You're not even listening."

Grimmjow reached for a nearby pillow and threw it at Ichigo, a bit miffed. "No damage done." The teal-haired man smirked. "Unlike a brat who uses _Stockholm_ as an excuse, I don't go around saying, look at me, I think I may have fallen for him because of the _Lima Syndrome_ shit. Stupid shmuck. At least, _I _admit it."

_I'm not your victim, Grimmjow,_ was what he wanted to say…

...but Ichigo's retort died in his mouth when he heard that. He observed Grimmjow carefully for a few seconds, but could only see and became a little irritated at the arrogant smirk and flashy blue hair.

"Fine."

"Fine?" Grimmjow raised an amused brow.

Ichigo smiled. "Fine."

He guessed both of them were.

_Victim_, that is.

* * *

A/N: This was long. This was _long_! Oh man, I finished. You know, in my plans for some GrimmIchi fics, this prompt/theme was supposed to be developed into a multi-chapter fic, but I guess I don't want to start anything new when there are two of those things going on with _Mistaken_ and _Hitman, Inc._ I hope this was good. I mean, I could have ended it differently, but well, I'm tired. It's midnight, and I want to be done :3 I like it though, hope you feel the same. R&R

A/N/N: For all of you readers out there, here's a little tidbit for understanding. Stockholm Syndrome is a psychological response in which hostages/enemies show to have affection/loyalty/sympathy towards their captors/enemies. Lima Syndrome is the inverse of that, in which the captor shows to have affection for his/her hostages.


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